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So I’m sitting in my chair now, post exam, reclining not so much as sitting on my chair in my room where I exist solely for myself and it’s post exams and I still feel like shit.

It’s gotten a lot worse, lately. I feel myself bursting into tears and being emotional at all the oddest times, and I avoid people or feel too disinterested to venture out with them, and regret soon after. I look forward to a time when I can watch a funny video or two and then I can ‘get over it’ and be my usual happy self but it’s taking longer and longer it seems to revive myself back to happy. I used to be able to get over things easily, within the minute and forget about it 20 minutes later. But now I go to sleep and wake up still the same, and it’s taking longer. It’s far too easy for me to get sad, I could be happily singing in the backseat and it only takes a minute to stare out of the window in silence and then all the ugly things pour in again.

Sometimes I wonder why we all exist anyways. The human race is a funny coincidence, trying to live in a world that wasn’t built for them. We’re just a species colonizing the planet like the dinos once did and we’re not special or invincible or anything and one day we’ll all be wiped out and all our pretenses about afterlife or religion or beliefs and theories and philosophies are just what they are: grandiose delusions of a race thinking they’re something more than flesh and water. Sometimes I imagine some photo of a blonde chick sitting by a beach or a meadow looking at some fucking dandelion or shit and the photo looking very REFLECTIVE OF LIFE AND FULL OF DEEP AND THOUGHT-PROVOKING SYMBOLISM and it’s in caps because that’s what the photo screams out to you; to tell you that whoever took it, is in it, who revels in it, who ‘understands’ it, is someone who can see a little bit beyond the tiny window we can look out from into the universe, and that they understand life and humanhood and everything.

I used to think I was special, but I guess I was wrong. No one is special. I had my moments. When I would sometimes zone out at some busy intersection or crowd and then look at all the intricacies of human life as we bump, shove and walk past each other on the way to our respective destinations to carry out some meaningless task which would have little importance or bearing to the world in general; but to us in our sheltered bubble and ecosystem of people going to work and people delivering McDonalds and meeting and responsibilities everyone is expected to go somewhere, all the time. Why are you home on a Friday night; what is your purpose in life? asks a socially active teenager to an awkward one. Why are you unemployed at your age? says a successful businessman to a 30 year old jobless man.

It’s an exquisite ruse, no doubt. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking that whatever I’m feeling at the precise moment is the epitome of my life emotions, that the boy who just dumped me and the pain in my heart is what makes me alive because it is the worse pain I have ever felt, and then on further reflection I realise how childish and stupid my emotions are, in relation to everything there is in the world. And no, I don’t fucking mean the starving African children or the dying cancer kids, I am not here to glorify anyone’s pain or emotions; I am here to say that no one’s emotions matter, because on the grand scale of things, nothing we do serves any purpose.

When I think this way, I let all the hopelessness and helplessness pervade my soul like it has never left. To get out of it, I drag myself out and ground myself with thoughts of what to wear and what to do on Saturday night and all my other existential fancies but how can I when I’ve once seen the grand scale of things and now been exposed to the immense reality that nothing matters and nothing is worth it except in our superficial fantasies? And all I want to do is stay in this chair all day long and not have to do anything because we’re all going to die anyways and there’s no fucking bullshit in writing a good story while you walk the earth; it isn’t fucking worth it because the world is messed up and we are a stupid race.

Today I’m going to be blogging about a short DIY project I undertook this morning 😀

Things you’ll need:

A furry sticker

Scissors

A phone case you don’t like or wanna revamp

The shop I went to had a ton of choices! I liked the one with hearts, but Mom said it was too childish LOL.

Anyways I chose this classy print of a panther?leopard?jaguar?

This is a plain Eggshell phone case that I thought I’d revamp 🙂

1) First, draw out the rough outline on the back of the sticker. It’s easy as pie even for someone who sucks at arts and crafts. Well, it’s fine to go too little or too much because you can always snip off the extra or add on an extra piece. It’s not an exact art 😀

3) The back piece all cut out!

4) Cut out the camera hole. As you can see there is some space along the edge! Just stick on a small 1mm wide piece to cover it up!

5) As said scrap piece used to patch up the bare areas.

6) Don’t forget that small strip of plastic that you face when you aim your phone towards you! Don’t neglect that or it will be very ugly.

7)All done!

Some other things I’ve decorated before is my calculator 😀 It’s been pink and furry for as long as I can remember (3-4 years??)

Have fun decorating, everyone! 🙂 FYI, these stickers are about 3 ringgit for an A4 size and 1.50 for a notebook size 🙂

And these stickers are peel-able, but they’re stickier than hell and would probably be really hard to tear off. Have never tried though!

I’ve never particularly liked my body. Stumpy legs, no boobs, prominent ribs. These days I’m trying to gorge more on food to gain weight because I can’t stand how hard it is to shop anymore. Everything that I like, everything that I want to wear is almost impossible to find, because it’s just too big and I’m just too petite and small and it hangs loose on me. Nothing fits me, and I’m tired of it. I wear a size 3 shoe, and that can’t be changed. But I just want to gain some weight so I can finally fit into some nice dresses, finally be able to wear bangles and bracelets, finally wear rings without them falling off. Finally able to wear stuff without gaping backs or gaping sleeves and wear low cut stuff without showing the world every single detail of my every collarbone and ribs. (And not even a smidgen of cleavage fml)

I have a small frame yes, but I have no “meat”. I’m just a skeleton, and I’m bony. I am gaining weight in the legs and tummy currently, hoping to gain some in my upper body soon.

I remember a time when I would force myself to sleep very late, at 6 am, or even later, when I felt most tranquil, just so I could wake up late, very late, later than 3pm if possible. Why? Because everytime I woke up, I was faced into this great wall of pain, and I would curl up and I couldn’t get out of bed, and it would just hit me the second I opened my eyes and faced the day, that it was pain. To check my phone, to see nothing, to throw myself into the meaningless loop of wondering What can I do? What could I have done? If only. Why me? This shouldn’t be happening. It hurts. And then I cry.

It somehow gets better throughout the day as I rewatch the same episode of How I Met Your Mother over and over again, and speed past the parts which involve kissing, and then I try to eat a meal, and by 12 midnight I talk myself into being strong, because I was so tired from crying all day. Then I get on FB or Tumblr, and chat with someone I barely know and unload my problems on them (they then never talk to me again) and cry some more, and then I tell myself ENOUGH then I rewatch How I Met Your Mother and actually laugh at some parts, and then I feel good, but sleepy, and I tell myself oh no it’s too early, I’ll be awake by 1pm, no no. Then I drag on till I collapse, and I wake again with a rested mind, which then begins whirring again until I bear it down and tire it enough to stop reminding me of the pain.

Life stopped for that period of time. I would take a flu med when I only had sniffles and then I’d be so overjoyed that I would be spending the day asleep. Sleeping, crying, watching sitcoms through a blur of tears, trying to read a book when a million thoughts raced in my mind.

I don’t know what is happening now to me, no pain, but now I feel like crying at the drop of the pin. I should probably NOT be having my period because then this would be my 3rd period this month.

Sometimes I think.. Why do I blog? To document what happens in my daily life? To express my thoughts ? For tutorials and reviews and telling people about me and my life and where I’ve been?

Should I blog at all? Life has been so dreary of late that I can easily let my blog die by not even writing anything in months on end.

So how have I been?

Bored, and pretty lonely these few days. Everyday’s been work, home, sleeping, then work, home and sleep all over again, with almost no break in between. Been kinda upsetting that’s for sure. Still the same old same old, trying desperately to get everyone’s approval but failing, trying to get everyone to like me and failing.

But if you wanna hear good news, here it is! Small things can make my day, or ruin it. So now I’ll let some pictures and funny (hopefully) captions enrich you on what’s been happening to me ever since I survived the apocalypse (yea sorry, had to make a cultural comment there just in case any future civilization chances upon this and wonders about the high traffic on December 21st 2012).

So after months and months of reading up iphone forums everyday (yes my life is this sad) I got an iPhone! I sold my iPod back in November when I visited the bf and have missed it sorely. I almost died without Instagram for a month. I had to use an old Nokia phone for the week before the launching of the iPhone (14th December 2012!) but it was all worth it. My black 32GB iPhone is now the sole reason why I am blogging LOLOL it is the most significant thing in this post. It came with a small scratch on the top corner on the back, but sighs, it’s okay. Bf got the iPhone too back in KL 🙂

I feel like a mother and its newborn baby.

Not really an audiophile, so the earphones are awesome to me.

Siri is my friend! foreveralone.jpg

First camwhore on the iPhone (I think?) I still am babying it till this day (Week 1) and wiping it every chance I get!

I started reading when I was 8 or 9. It all started when I borrowed an Enid Blyton book home and I couldn’t stop reading. I barely understood the words but I was so overjoyed at how I could immerse myself in a book for so many hours. And then began the Journey of Reading, which was a period of some 5 years of my life. I would read everywhere, bring a book everywhere, and read in the middle of class, in my bed secretly after Mum went to bed, and everywhere.

I feel like I’ve experienced so much through all these books I’ve read. I think that 50% of what I know doesn’t come from my education, but what books I read in my formative years. I had a rich childhood, full of magic and adventure and wonder with every turn of the page.

I dragged my family to read too. We visited 3 libraries every weekend, and when we got home it would be 7 or 8. After all books were borrowed I refused to go ANYWHERE but home to read. I read 4 or 5 books a day on weekends and I would devour them all. In the car between libraries I’d already start reading. My parents were happy but forced to sit in libraries every weekend. I made so many friends at libraries too, while browsing through the many racks. I did increasingly get self-conscious when people stared at me, a little girl borrowing 10-15 books from one library alone (we had multiple memberships).

I would finish all the books before each weekend visit, and photocopy those books that made an impact to me. I didn’t have ENOUGH books to read. I must have read all the books in the libraries. It became harder to choose books, because so many had been read! I must have read 500 books a year at least.

I revelled in not only fiction and literature, but also books about space, about the universe, learning about all the planets and their moons, the Egyptians and the Greeks and how they lived, cut-out 3D books about how the medieval people held sieges, books about how trains and escalators work, UNICEF books about all the children and all the cultures in the world, Amazing Facts books about our human bodies, and strange animal habits (our intestines stretched out would be kilometres long! there are butterflies which camouflage themselves to look like dangerous insects!)

I viewed life differently when I read shamelessly, openly, willingly. Now, I’ve become critical and self-conscious. Certain books I scoff at. Quality of books have dropped. I don’t want people to think I’m a bookworm. I wish I could immerse myself in books the way I used to , instead of just occasional “hmm that was a good book” afternoons when I find myself temporarily in that vortex untouched by fatigue, hunger or time.

I miss those simple times in my life when a new adventure started every time I opened a new book; when I felt sad when a book ended; when I dwelled and properly thought about a book that had impacted me, for example poverty, war, child abuse; learning about how the Egyptians lived, about the Roman baths, about the social status of women in Greek, what the children did in their spare time; learned history and inventions of things; learned that Io is fiery and Europa icy (Jupiter’s moons); learned so so much, that made me wise beyond my years.

So for that, I’d like to thank all the books which made me who I am today, thank you for teaching me all I need to know, thank you for colouring my childhood, thank you for being my friend when I was lonely, thank you because I was never bored when I was turning the pages, THANK YOU, for all the experiences and adventures you let me live through while sitting in my bed till the wee hours of the morning.

i surrounded myself with so many people I felt I should hang out with, people who study a lot, are smart, etc. To the point when I realised I wasn’t happy it was too late. Now I realise the friends I want all along, is not the kind whom can teach me about a subject if I’m unsure, but the kind who will go out shopping with me any time any day of the week just because there’s a party coming up.

you know what i’m saying?

in high school i judged people too much. those girls who were loud and always seemed to have SO much fun were all not the studying kind, not the smart kind, and I felt like okay since I’m in the best class I should maintain some boundaries and behave the way I should and befriend those I should. But now I regret a lot. Screw it with grades, kiasu-ness, comparison. I want to have fun, I want to have girlfriends who flunk out of school for all I care but whom I’m able to share a drink with and talk dirt with. To hell with it with judgement and expectations and stereotypes. Good girl, bad girl, they all don’t matter.